Lost
by Bobbie
Summary: Rating's for language. If you like it happy, I highly suggest reading, well, anything but this. I'm back, and I brought all my angst with me. ;)


Disclaimer:  Not mine.  Wish they were.  

Lost 

_All those times…_

_I didn't mean it.  I never meant it._

_But it never really mattered anyway, did it?_

_It never, ever mattered to you.  But somehow…_

_…Somehow, it matters too much to me._

Her fingers found the keys of their own volition, and a melody was summoned from memories too jumbled to comprehend; but the emotion came through nonetheless.  She imagined, a lifetime ago, on a different planet, surrounded by an atmosphere tainted with the scent of home rather than stale cigarette smoke and cheap liquor, that the simple tune might have been a joyful one, tapped out by the dancing, flawless, porcelain hands of an innocent young girl, brimming with hope for the future.

A future that never came.

Her eyes were closed as the notes reverberated through the early morning stillness of the piano bar, carried through the joints of her arms, to her spine, and pierced her soul.  Ironic how this memory could capture her…and yet, she was still unable to claim it fully as her own.  None of it made sense.  It never made any sense.  She wondered, bleakly, if it ever would.

Only the song.  A song that held no name for her, no singular moment in her murky, elusive past…a song that just was.  A melody that had once belonged to her now turned the tables to possess her body for a melancholy encore; a requiem for what was lost, and could not be found again.

She felt the familiar sting behind her eyes, bit her lip as a tear left its lonely mark upon her flushed cheek.  She wouldn't stop, couldn't.  Unfortunate that hope, no matter how unlikely the outcome, never died.  It pulled her along, blind and flailing, into an uncertain future, from a dreary past, and a monochrome present…though she knew, just as she was assured that with every treacherous beat of her heart, one more lie in wait to taunt her blackened existence, that the world lost its flavor a long time ago.  The color was fading, and soon, all she would see would be reminiscent of her long-lost memories.  A blurry, gray nonsense.

The pressure in her chest was building, choking a wretched sob from her hunched frame, and the music dissolved into an eerie silence, shattered only a moment later by a fierce, tortured cry.  The wooden lid slammed sharply over the piano keys, knuckles white as she dug her nails into the etched surface, desperate to regain some semblance of control.  

_I don't want to be like him…I don't want to be like him!_

She seemed to wilt, her body yielding to an invisible weight, until her forehead met the cool, polished surface of the piano; delicate features twisted into a mask of self-loathing and despair, as she allowed the tears their freedom, at least for a short time.  She cried…for herself, for him…

For the futures that could never, ever be.

Through it all, she detected the tentative shuffle of a boot against cold concrete, her breathing harsh in the silence that descended as she reigned her emotions in long enough to gather what little remained of her dignity.  She knew who it was, knew he'd probably been there for longer than she would have liked, a bitter laugh shaking her fragile form, making her look even more vulnerable.  The action had surprised her, as did the words that began forming even before she knew whether she would say anything at all.

"I'm so fucked up, Jet.  When did it all get to be this…"  She gestured aimlessly around her, keeping her head bowed and her back to him because, try as she might, she couldn't maintain her composure and talk at the same time.  "…This…_God!_  Everything's _wrong!_"  She shuddered, unable to keep the sobs from interrupting her speech, one trembling hand shielding her eyes from the myriad of blacks and whites and grays that filled her vision.  When she spoke again, her voice was barely a whisper, raw and strained.  "It wasn't supposed to _be_ like this, it…it wasn't supposed to turn out this way!"

Jaw clenched, she brought one fist down upon the piano, resulting in a cacophony of sour notes as the vibrations of her physical assault came through the strings within the worn instrument.  Emitting a growl laced more with heartache than with rage, she continued, crying more than talking, syllables drawn out by intermittent sobs and hiccups.  "I keep wishing…for all these…these stupid things!  _Goddamn him!_  This…was supposed to be about my life…"  Exhaustion was beginning to settle in, cries subsiding to soft gasps, her vehemence dying to a whisper.  "_My_ life."

He was dumbfounded, she knew, so used to avoiding any true emotion.  That was the veil of the Bebop, and somehow, for a time, it was all she needed.  A refuge.  And now…

It had become her prison.  Her purgatory.

As far as she was concerned, her time had come.

Pushing herself to stand on wobbly legs, she stumbled away from the piano bench, turning away so that he never quite got to see her face as she began to move away, meandering aimlessly around empty tables and chairs, destination unknown…as always.

"I'm done," she muttered dully as she reached the exit, pushing through to greet the first rays of a cold dawn, and never once looking back.

A/N: Angsty as all hell, I know it, but I couldn't help it.  I just finished watching Ep. 26 for about the 500th time, and noticed for the first time Spike's guardian star fading out at the end of the credits.  After bawling my eyes out, and listening to "Kawaisou na Faye" from the Box Set, this came out.  I need to start watching more light-hearted anime!!  All this angst can't be good for one's health…


End file.
